


You Know What They Say...

by WhoInWhoville



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluffy, LegendsLikeStardust, Tango, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Vignette, Wedding, Wedding Reception, doctorroseficprompt, dwficprompt, pardon my spouting of wikipedia facts, the adventures in between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: They've got the moves.





	You Know What They Say...

**Author's Note:**

> June 25, 2017 legendslikestardust fic prompt: "Well, you know what they say..."

The Doctor careered around a corner at the intersection of _Billiards_ , the _Flesh-Eating Plants Botanical Garden_ , and _That Locked Room with the Strange Smell_. He skidded in his stocking feet, having been relaxing in the library with a cup of tea and Volume II of the Annals of Ancient Klom. (A very interesting read. He’d marked his page.) The shriek from the direction of Rose's bedroom had been bloodcurdling. It had been followed by a series of punctuated screams, what sounded like pounding on the floor, and then crying.

"Oh I reeeeeeally hope that Botran scorpion didn't come out of his pre-feed coma. It _has_ been forty-three months though. Very possible,” he muttered to himself.

The Doctor didn't bother to knock. He aimed his sonic, and burst through her door (which wasn't actually locked).

"Rose! I can explain--"

"Shareen's getting married! And I'm her maid of honour, and it's happening on December 9, but I need to go for a fitting in October. She has really horrible taste in clothes, but I don't care, she's my best mate, and she'll make me wear blue eyeshadow I bet, and I’ll probably have to get fake nails -- the kind that are two inches long and glittered up with rhinestones. But I don't care! I'm so happy for her!" Black mascara ringed her eyes.

"What? So you're not being attacked by a big pink thing--" he opened his arms wide "--about this big with two spiked tails, six eyes, and fangs dripping with lime green goo? The way you were screaming, after all.“

"What you goin' on about?" Rose laughed as she began packing a bag, shoving in clothes and makeup and lacy unmentionables without bothering to fold them.

He rubbed the back of his neck and pulled a face. “Never mind."

Rose turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Something you're not telling me?"

He blew air through his lips, frowned, and then shook his head in denial. "Naw. Nothing to worry about. So a wedding eh? And I suppose you'll be wanting to go?"

"Didn't you hear a word I just said? Shareen! My best mate! She's getting married! I’m her maid of honor! I’m already packing! Of course we're going. I'd rather go home sooner than later, if you don't mind. It's been a rough couple of days.” She frowned. ”You going down into that pit… Toby blowing fire outta his mouth… All that creepy writing on his face. Those poor Ood. I think we both deserve a break. Don't you?"

"I suppose we do. Righty-o then. I shall set a new course at your bidding, milady."

“October 2, my timeline. Dress fitting. And then we could jump ahead to the wedding right away, yeah?"

"Sounds like a very good plan, Rose Tyler. Second of October it is. But first," he pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I have, errrrr, something I need to check on. You're sure you haven't seen a big pink scorpion-looking thing?"

"No! And I hope I never do!"

oOo

"Shareen definitely has," the Doctor tugged on his ear, “very red and… _slitty_ taste."

“Doctor! That was rude! She does not have _shi_ —“

“NoNoNoNoNo!!!! Sllllllliiiity taste. That slit. It’s very… long.” He blushed a bit, and then cleared his voice.

Rose laughed, and then twirled. The asymmetrical dress flared out, revealing a long slit all the way up her leg.

“You know, I had visions of a glow-in-the-dark neon pink ruffled mermaid dress so tight that I wouldn’t be able to sit. But this is sorta amazing. Not very bridesmaid like, but still amazing.” She smoothed down the silky fabric. “Shareen and Benny, that’s her fiancé, they’ve been taking Tango lessons to dance at the reception. Don’t know what the rest of us are gonna do, seeing as how the average wedding guest probably doesn’t know how. I know I don’t. Wonder if she’s gonna give all the women roses to hold in their teeth?“

“Tell you what. The Tango originated in Argentina and Uruguay. We really _must_ go. It’s one of the few dances I don’t know.“

“You saying that you _don’t_ have the moves, Doctor?” She smiled, biting her tongue.

“Oh, I have the moves,” he said low, voice rumbling. “Just haven’t learned them yet. I promise, we will be _better_ than anyone else in the room.”

“Upstage the bride?” she flirted.

“Absolutely. You _are_ the best, Rose Tyler, and I only take the best.” He winked saucily.

Rose twirled dramatically, grabbed his hand, roughly pulled him close, and led him around the room, arms jutted out.

“The Tango is said to have significant health benefits. According to _Psychology Today_ , dancing the Tango makes you feel relaxed, sexier, and less depressed, and it increases testosterone levels. Not that I need any manly enhancement.”

Rose snorted a laugh as the Doctor continued his lesson. “The Tango is the official dance of Rundamimanina. Well, it’s a variation of the Tango. Well… it isn’t really the Tango at all. But the Rumdamimanians do love dancing, which is odd, considered the people on Rundamimanina have two left feet. Literally. I’ve never taken you to Argentina, and it’s been ages since I’ve been there. May as well learn the Tango from the best. But I’ll have to make sure we don’t land during one of those dodgy regimes.” He shuddered. “Don’t want to get thrown into prison for unlawful assembly — dancing the tango was outlawed for a time. Imagine that! Illegal to dance the Tango! So, Rose Tyler. Argentina?”

“Sounds like fun. You know, Shareen’s mum has been trying to get me married off to her nephew since I was thirteen, and even though you’re my plus one, I have to walk down the aisle with the bloke, and he’s handsy.”

“I’ll be your knight in shining armor, Dame Rose.” He bowed, gallantly.

“Well thank you, Sir Doctor.” Rose curtsied. “I’m sorta surprised Shareen actually got away with choosing these dresses. Course, we’ll be wearing shawls for the church ceremony. Fringed. Gorgeous. Her mum would have her head if our shoulders weren’t covered up. The slit is pushing it as it is. We’ll just have to make sure we don’t do any deep lunges walkin’ down the aisle.” Rose smiled saucily.

oOo

“I think this is the best reception I’ve ever been to,” Rose grinned.

“I have to admit, as human weddings go, this one gets high marks.” He surveyed the room. “Nice lighting, great music, although the cake wasn’t—“

“Banana. I know. Doctor, normal people don’t have banana cake at their wedding.

“But that’s the thing. I’m not normal,” he bragged. “And if I were human, I’d have banana cake.”

“With edible ball bearings. I know, I know.” Rose rolled her eyes.

The musicians — an accordionist, pianist, and a guitarist began to play a soulful, sexy-sad song.

“So, are you ready to show off our superior dancing skills?”

“More than.”

He held out his hand and led her to the dance floor.

Their toes traced patterns on the floor. Hands were clasped. Arms locked. Faces just shy of touching. A small but precise flip of the leg, a running of the toes up a calf. Legs in tandem, as if man was glued to woman. Red silk flipped. Toned legs flexed. Dark eyes flashed — locked onto the soulful, golden-flecked eyes of his companion. As the song progressed, the touches became more intimate, more sensual. Slower. More pronounced. More teasing. More… _raw_.”

When the music stopped with a flourish, the room was silent, staring at the couple who were now snogging on the dance floor. Someone began to clap slowly, and then another person whistled. And soon the room had erupted with a combination of incensed gasps from maiden aunts, teenaged boys cat calling, throats being cleared, and lots of cheering.

Rose startled when she felt a sharp, varnished fingernail poking her shoulder, and then snickering.

“‘We’re just friends, Shareen! Honestly!’” mocked the bride.

“Uh…” Rose fumbled for words through swollen lips. “We… the thing is…”

The Doctor stood still as a statue, slack jawed, eyes glazed, and hair riotously on end, a victim of Rose’s wandering hands.

oOo

There was a rather awkward return to the TARDIS once the reception had wrapped up. Rose dropped onto the white bench, and proceeded to examine her dark red fingernails.

“So,” the Doctor said, sauntering around the console flipping switches more deliberately than usual.

“So…” Rose cleared her throat. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he dodged.

“That dance. That kiss.” Rose cleared her throat again.

He turned, and leaned on the console, arms and legs crossed, looking right into Rose’s eyes.

“That was the _Tango_.” The word hung in the tingling, charged air.

“Yeah, I know that, but—“

“And you know what they say about the Tango…” He pressed his tongue against the teeth for a moment, pushed himself off of the console, and extended his hand.

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, but then took it. He pulled her gently to him, but not close enough to touch. Music echoed within the expanse of the room. They began to dance.

“What do they say about the Tango, Doctor?” she asked.

“The Tango, it is said, exposes the passions of the dancers’ hearts. Brings truth to the surface.”

Their movements were precise, in unison. Harmonious.

“At least that’s what the Rundamimaninians say about their non-Tango Tango.”

“Even with two left feet?” She smiled.

“Especially with two left feet. Who else but two people in love would put up with a dancing partner with two left feet?”

She nodded, and smiled, following his perfect lead.

“They have another saying, too. That when two people are finally _dancing_ there is no lead. That the lead, in reality, knows their partner so well that he or she is anticipating the next move of the one that is supposedly following.”

“So are you saying you _knew_ I was going to kiss you, so you kissed me?”

“Well, in this case, I think we both knew at the same time. Or what we’ve _wanted_. So no leading. No following. Only a pair of dancers completely in sync, letting the truth come to the surface.”

They danced slowly, with even more passion than they had at the reception. The lights dimmed, and the music softened a bit. And they never stopped dancing again — the truth finally revealed through a dance.

 


End file.
